


Camp As a Row of Little Pink Tents

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-03
Updated: 2006-02-03
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: It's the biggest sly festival on the Rim, and Mal and Jayne have some drugs to smuggle.





	Camp As a Row of Little Pink Tents

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Thanks to k, Katisha, and Distraction for beta reading. Chinese is from zhongwen.com and the Firefly Chinese Pinyinary. Written for Queenbitter for Serenity Santa 2005.

  
Author's notes: Thanks to k, Katisha, and Distraction for beta reading. Chinese is from zhongwen.com and the Firefly Chinese Pinyinary. Written for Queenbitter for Serenity Santa 2005.  


* * *

Camp As a Row of Little Pink Tents

## Camp As a Row of Little Pink Tents

They had themselves a job. As jobs went, it fell on the unsavory and dangerous end of the spectrum, but morally, it wouldn't keep Mal up nights. They'd got it through an associate of Badger's, as things tended to go. It was Mal's first attempt at drug smuggling, but he reckoned this was a line of work he and his would take to pretty easy. Small cargo, no problem to conceal; moderate chance of violence, enough money to keep them in the sky for a year if they pulled it off. A career-making caper. 

It was the particulars that were off-putting, and that explained why his client'd had to work so hard to find a willing captain. They were moving the cargo off a moon called Highgate, along the border between the Core and the Rim. Every year, Highgate held a festival of some renown, derived from an ancient Earth-that-was ritual that had no doubt been perverted beyond recognition. There was some business about men becoming brides and symbolically marrying a god, though no one paid it much mind. What most folks knew about the Aduvani Festival was, every queen, ladyboy, and sly fellow in the 'verse who could pay his way to Highgate put on his best dress and celebrated with a few tens of thousands of others of his kind. It was a tradition for which Mal had nothing but approval: them folks had the same right as anyone to a few days when they were in control, when they were the ones who were normal. 

It was not an occasion that Mal had ever expected to attend. But he was not a man to pass up a job, especially one that paid his expenses in advance and was unlikely to end with a swordfight. Simon, however, was not so enthusiastic. He said it was the drugs he was hung up on. Most of the men at Aduvani didn't go in for nothing harder than liquor, but the party drugs flowed abundant for those as wanted them. The Feds looked the other way, since it was just a bunch of ji ba xi shi, and since they weren't allowed on the festival site unless they dressed up like women. It wasn't anything near legal to use Aduvani as an exchange point for mind-altering substances, but it wasn't anything near difficult, either. 

Simon did not approve of participating in the drug trade, and he said he'd sooner let Mal abandon him and River on Persephone than be directly involved in it. "You know I ain't of a mind to do that," Mal explained, calmly as he could, which was just this side of outright confrontational. "Seeing as that leaves me without a pilot." 

"Well, then, find someone else to do your ta ma de huang yin job," Simon said. 

"There ain't no one. Four women and three men on this boat anymore. Festival ground is sacred space, no girls allowed. And putting Jayne in a dress strikes me as a last resort." 

Simon gaped huffily. "Is that what - you think I'm the one who - I am sick and tired of this, Mal. I am done with the sly jokes and being called a girl. You and your job can go to hell, Mal, and while you're there? You can buy Jayne a dress." As Simon stormed off, he looked like nothing so much as a queen on a runway. But Mal reckoned that now was not the time to voice that observation. It was time to turn his thoughts to persuading Jayne that it was in his best interests to wear a dress. 

Jayne was in his bunk, spit-shining his boots in the most repulsive possible manner. "Thought you said you didn't need me for this job," he said. "Thought you was fixing to leave me behind with the womenfolk." 

"Well, Simon's had a sudden fit of insecure in his masculinity," Mal said. "It's a two-man job. If you don't go, we gotta give up the opportunity." 

Jayne shrugged and spit onto his boot. "I'm in." 

"Ju da de niu shi de dui," Mal said. "There some reason you're so eager to go on this job?" 

"Can't work out why you'd even take Simon," Jayne said. "No weapons at Aduvani, I woulda figured you'd want someone who could land a punch." He sounded almost like he wanted to go. It sounded almost like he was motivated by reasons other than greed. 

"All right, then," Mal said. "You're in. We got an appointment with Inara's tailor soon as we get to Persephone." 

They landed a few hours later, and Inara brought them to her friend Ralley's shop in the garment district. She'd been real cooperative about the whole thing, probably out of amusement. On the way, she revealed that as a precaution, she'd given Ralley Jayne's measurements as well as Mal's and Simon's. Ralley was honored to have the opportunity to design for Aduvani, she told Mal. He did mostly work for Companions, which was a fine living, but there was special prestige in making dresses for the festival. A few tailors, mostly in the Core, specialized in it, and a custom-made dress from one of them could set a man back a thousand credits for an outfit he'd most likely wear once. Ralley was cutting Mal a good deal, because he was fond of Inara and because he'd be able to add these dresses to his portfolio. 

"I wish I could go myself," Ralley said through a mouthful of pins as he checked the fit of Mal's dress. He and Jayne needed two each: one for the first evening's festivities and one for the wedding ceremony and ball on the second day. Ralley had insisted that two dresses were the bare minimum. Some of the most dramatic and wealthy participants would change their clothes a dozen times. 

"We'll give you passage, free of charge," Mal said. 

"Alas, I have orders to fill," Ralley said. "Maybe next year, if you go back." 

Mal snorted. "Ain't much chance of that." 

"Most of the people who attend Aduvani spend the entire year planning for it," Inara said. "You might want to treat the event with _some_ respect. If you plan to avoid getting stabbed this time." 

"Thought there wasn't no weapons at Aduvani," Jayne said. He was waiting his turn, sitting with his legs spread apart while wearing a black strapless gown that, to Ralley's credit, was almost flattering. 

"There aren't any drugs, either," Inara said. 

Jayne was admiring his bodice and the layers of his skirt. "Awful lot of places to hide a gun in this outfit," he said. 

"No guns," Mal said. "No complications. 'Sides, we're showing respect, ain't we?" 

"I wasn't fixing to hide one," Jayne said. "Just saying you could." 

Ralley spun the platform that Mal was standing on so that Mal was facing the full-length mirror. "You're all set," Ralley said. "Go put on the other one." 

When Jayne stood up to take his turn, Ralley gawped. "We're gonna have to wax you," he said to Jayne. "No way around it, not in that gown. The gorilla look is _not_ de mode at Aduvani, no matter how much of a butch thing you are." 

"Does that go for both of us?" Mal said. He'd been hoping there wouldn't be pain in addition to the already mounting humiliation. 

"You're not too hairy, and both of your dresses are full-length," Ralley said. "You should be all right as long as you shave under your arms." 

Mal would've figured Jayne to raise a stink at the suggestion of getting his back hair ripped off with hot wax, but Jayne didn't say nothing in protest. But as Mal shut the door to the dressing room, he caught Jayne scowling at his reflection and tugging wistfully at the hair on his chest. He didn't look like he felt pretty. 

Ralley needed some time to make his alterations, so he sent the three of them off to buy jewelry, handbags, and makeup. He'd been very clear that they were not to buy wigs or to seek out makeup formulated for queens. That kind of thing was reserved for those who aimed to pass for women. Mal and Jayne had no hope of doing that, and trying would draw them just the kind of attention they didn't want. 

Inara, who continued to keep her snideness mostly to herself, was a great help to have along. She knew a few things about matching cosmetics to coloring, and she knew of a small market where they could buy jewelry that looked rich but cost little. She found dangly earrings for Jayne and sparkly clips to put in Mal's hair. They bought anything that made all three of them laugh at how ridiculous and perfect it looked. When they'd spent down their accessories budget, Inara took Jayne for the waxing, and Mal went to pick up their shoes, custom-made for big feet by an associate of Ralley's. One of Mal's pairs was even pretty comfortable. He flexed his feet in his new gold slippers and reckoned he might even pull this off, might even sell this lie. 

* 

It took them a day and a half to get to Highgate from Persephone, during which time Mal got a wave telling him to meet his contact in a specific ballroom at the festival complex on the first night. Mal had hoped to lie low and avoid the actual festivities, but it looked like he was going to have to figure out how to blend in. 

Two hours before they were set to land, Inara informed Mal that she was going to fix his hair and makeup, so he'd best put his dress on and give himself a shave. She was acting all qi qiao de again: too solicitous and not nearly sarcastic enough. His first dress was bronze-colored silk, high-necked like a Chinese dress but ending in a full skirt over a gold petticoat. He gave a little twirl as he came into Inara's shuttle, trying to get an insult out of her, but nothing doing. She rolled her eyes and told him to sit down before he tore a hole in something. 

She put something in his hair to make it shine and lie flat, and she held it in place with a set of hummingbird-shaped barrettes they'd bought on Persephone. She painted his face with what looked to be a mixture of vengeance and glee. She kept scolding him for squeezing his eyes shut or scrunching up his face. It felt like she put twenty different things just on his eyelids. But when she let him have a look, he could see that she'd done something magical. He resembled neither a woman nor himself, but a fantastical hybrid creature that glittered something fierce. "You don't think it's a tad too much?" he said. 

"I'm worried it won't be enough," she frowned. "But we're short on time, and I've still got Jayne to do." 

Mal teetered in his pretty shoes. No way in the 'verse was this going to work. They didn't have a prayer of convincing anyone they belonged at Aduvani. 

* 

Mal was quick to admit he was wrong to assume they wouldn't blend in. When they got to the registration table, the bespangled fellow there found their reservation without any trouble, handed them a key each, and pointed them towards a sea of pink tents. He even took the time to compliment Mal on the hummingbirds. 

He and Jayne located their pink tent. It had looked modest from a distance, but it was right fancy inside: two beds with clean linens, each large enough for two men to sleep in if they cuddled up close. A tall wardrobe for hanging finery, with a rack for shoes and drawers for accessories and sundries. There were even a washbasin and commode hooked up to a small water tank. "This is better'n my bunk," Jayne said, claiming a bed. 

They put their things away and each sat down on their beds. Jayne bounced on the edge of his for a spell. "So," he said, when it was clear Mal wasn't giving any orders just then. "Wanna drink till them queens start looking pretty?" 

It sounded better than hiding in their tent. They went walking through the tent area towards the stalls and the ballrooms. Most of the men there looked an awful lot like they did: men who did hard work with their hands and backs, who weren't at all accustomed to fussy shoes and trailing skirts. As usual, the rich folk were stored somewhere fancier. But Mal was happiest among his own kind. If these glittering songbirds could be said to be in any way the same kind as Mal. 

When they reached the stalls, Mal felt like he'd been transported to a county fair. In the center of each aisle, a large stall offered the simple meals that were included in the price of admission. It looked to be protein-and-vegetable stew with rice and a cup of tea - nothing special, but it smelled inviting, and weary travelers had formed long lines already. The other stalls offered everything from handmade jewelry to souvenir shot glasses to shaving razors and sewing kits. And every imaginable variety of carnival food: deep fried lumps and meat on sticks, dumplings and ice planets. At the end of each aisle and at the intersections, there were drinking fountains and, to Mal's amusement, huge bins of skins and lube in packets. Jayne took a handful of each and stuffed them into his pocketbook. "They're _free_ , Jayne said. "Never know when you might need 'em." For once, Mal had a hard time arguing with Jayne's logic. 

They found a stall that sold beer and sake. Not free, as Jayne had hoped, but cheaper than a bar. With some alcohol to numb his brain, Mal was almost having a good time. He remembered Kaylee at the ball on Persephone, in awe just looking at everyone's finery. This place had Persephone beat: there, folks were all trying to look stylish and citified, but at Aduvani, every man was a peacock, showing off his most flamboyant feathers. Only half a beer, and Mal could see how some of them were beautiful. But when they returned his gaze and smiled flirtatiously, Mal looked away fast, not sure what to do with the attention. 

They chanced upon the ballroom where they were supposed to meet their contact, and Jayne bellyached about his feet being sore, so they resolved to lay claim to a couple of empty chairs. The "ballroom" wasn't nothing more than a portable wood floor with a vast pink canvas canopy over it and a band of musicians at the front. But it was strung up with paper lanterns and candles that made it look like something special. There wasn't nobody dancing when they got there, just groups of men in dresses drinking beer from disposable cups and having animated conversations. After the sun went down, though, the band picked up the beat and couples started filling the floor. There weren't no structured dances like Mal was used to seeing at the beginning of an evening, only pairs of dancers twirling around or snuggling close as they pleased. No steps to remember, no negotiations over who was going to lead. 

Mal got up to refill his empty beer cup. The world didn't swim when he stood, which meant he was in definite need of another drink. A wiry whip of a yellow-haired man, wearing a ruffly pink number that might have taken Kaylee's fancy, startled Mal by asking him to dance. Most places Mal had been, it was rude to refuse if a man asked, but Mal feared he'd miss his contact. He feared even more that this fellow might take a shine to him, and Mal was right sure that even if he were sly, he wouldn't have been likely to return this fellow's affections. "I - I'm waiting for someone," Mal said. 

"One dance," the man said. "Just one, and you can go back to... _waiting_." 

"Really, I'm flattered," Mal said. "But you gotta understand--" 

Jayne stood up. "Biao zi de er zi, can't you see you ain't his type?" 

The man actually _bowed_ with shame, or possibly terror. "My apologies," he said. 

"Xie xie," Mal said to Jayne. 

Jayne pushed his half-finished beer into Mal's hand. "Since you're fixing to play wallflower all night, you might as well finish this," he said. "I'm gonna go get to know that girl over there." 

"Have you forgotten that girl's a boy?" Mal said. 

"It's just dancing," Jayne said. "Or necking. Or, a blow job's the best-case scenario." He looked puppyishly at Mal. "Pretty's pretty." Thanks to the taffeta of his skirt, it looked like he was flouncing away. 

Mal swished the lukewarm beer in Jayne's cup. Jayne had picked out a tall, redheaded queen who Mal had to admit was awful convincing, at least from a few yards away. Either the queen was desperate or Mal had underestimated the power of Jayne's charms, because the queen followed him willingly onto the dance floor. 

Mal kept his eye on Jayne, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. At least, that was his excuse. If he were more honest with himself, he would've admitted that Jayne cut a mighty captivating figure. His dress's fitted bodice and foofy skirt gave him the illusion of curves, which looked strange coming up against his bare biceps and pecs. Inara had turned his sideburns into spit curls, and she'd found a necklace and earrings for him, made out of dangly silver disks, that drew attention to his thick neck. His makeup made his eyes look wider and bluer; his full lips softer and rounder; and his skin white and even. He still looked like Jayne, which was to say apelike, but the effect was certainly eye-catching. 

To Mal's astonishment, the queen accepted a second dance from Jayne. They appeared to be having a real live conversation, and Jayne smiled lasciviously when the queen batted his eyes. Jayne even let the queen feel him up, squeeze his thigh, and rest a hand on his ass. He retaliated only with a grin. Mal wondered how it would feel to do the same, or to put his hand up under Jayne's skirt and feel the freshly hairless skin of his leg. To wave it all away with the excuse that Jayne shouldn't have strapped a gun to his stocking garter if he didn't want Mal to grope him. 

Mal realized what he was thinking and tried to shake it out of his brain. He couldn't account for it. Maybe them cocksuckers had slipped something in his beer. Jayne was letting his queen kiss him on the neck, and the sight of it put Mal even further out of sorts. 

So he was startled something fierce when a man behind him said to a nearby partygoer, "It's a shame there are only two days, with so many pretty girls." Those were the code words he was supposed to be listening for. 

"It's a shame they'll all turn into boys, come morning," Mal said, wheeling around to find a stout, balding man who looked uncomfortable and put-upon in an ill-fitting sky-blue frock. 

The man gave Mal a once-over. "Nice work," he said. "I never would have guessed." 

"When I do a job, I aim to do it properly," Mal said. 

The man shushed him. "Shall we talk privately?" he said, leading Mal to a grimy alcove behind a row of stalls before Mal could respond. He explained the details of the job like he was in a hurry to escape. The next morning, while all the other festivalgoers were at the wedding ceremony, he and Jayne were to sneak out to one of the administrative buildings and retrieve the goods. Mal's contact had a crude map of the facility, which Mal tucked into his pocketbook. It didn't sound in any way difficult, but by the time Mal had opened his mouth to share this with his contact, the man was gone. 

Mal went back to the ballroom, hoping Jayne hadn't done something stupid like wander off to get a blow job and a mugging. He was relieved to find Jayne still dancing with the same redheaded queen, although disturbed to see him nuzzling at Jayne's ear. "Jayne," Mal called out, near losing his balance as he ran across the dance floor. 

"C'mon, Mal," Jayne said. "We're in the middle of a song." 

Mal started to say that wasn't what they were there for, but saying it out loud would have blown their cover. "I need to talk to you now," he said, hoping the message would make it past the thicket of stupid that clogged Jayne's brain so much of the time. 

"Fine," Jayne pouted. "Shang tian jin zhi you'd ever let me have any fun." 

"Are you his boss?" the queen said. "The one who owns the spaceship?" 

"I am," Mal said. 

"Then this is a situation I don't reckon I want to be caught in the middle of," the queen said. He kissed Jayne's cheek. "It was lovely meeting you." He leaned closer to Jayne and whispered something that Mal couldn't hear, then surprised Mal mightily by putting his lips close to his ear and hissing, "I'm giving him up without a fight. Don't waste it, or I will be _very_ hurt." Then, briskly, before Mal could reply, the queen turned on his heels and stalked away, his head high in the air. 

Jayne practically dragged Mal off the dance floor. Mal didn't give him a chance to speak. "What the di yu did you say to him?" Mal said. 

"First off, he's a she," Jayne said. With a smile, he added, "Name's Roxanna." 

"That ain't no 'she'," Mal said. 

"She's close enough for me," Jayne said. 

"I reckon that says everything," Mal said. 

"I didn't tell her nothing 'cept I work on a spaceship and I'm here with my boss. Everything else, she musta come up with on her own. Though the way you was staring at me, I ain't surprised she done come up with it." 

"I wasn't staring," Mal said. 

Jayne snorted. 

"I _wasn't_. Keeping track, making sure I didn't lose sight of you--" 

"Daydreaming about what I got under my dress," Jayne finished. 

"Jayne, you ain't got nothing under that dress I ain't seen before." 

"But another person shows me any kind of attention, and all of a sudden it's shiny and new, ain't it?" 

Mal started to raise his fist, but Jayne noticed and grabbed him by the wrists. "You wanna get us thrown outta the festival 'fore we finish what we came here for?" he said. Mal shook his head, struck dumb. "Then bi zui and listen to me," Jayne continued. "I dunno if you been paying attention, but half the boys here been watching you all evening, praying to whatever god they got that you'd take 'em for a spin. When that one fellow worked up the courage, and you turned him down, I damn near slapped you across the face. Mal, we got a _lot_ of money on the line here, and I ain't letting you throw it away 'cause you're too proud to act sly for a couple days." 

"I... thought I was doing all right," Mal said. 

"Don't you always?" Jayne said. "And then we wind up gorram near dead." 

"We don't - all right, there's been a few close scrapes, but -" 

" _Close_? Close for you, maybe," Jayne said. "Though I reckon that's all that matters to you. The rest of us are just here to keep _you_ in the air." 

"That ain't so," Mal said. "You know that ain't so." 

"I don't see you shedding a whole lotta tears when I get shot. Or harpooned through the leg. Or kicked in the balls by crazy girls..." 

"Then you know what? Find someone else to run with. I reckon there's all manner of queens here who'd pay you in blow jobs." 

Jayne released Mal's wrists and glared at him. "Been here half the night, sent you every signal I know, and you still ain't worked it out," he said. "Ta ma de hun dan." And he became the third man in a dress who Mal had sent off in a huff that night. 

In this case, though, it looked like the huff had been brewing for a couple of years. A few times, Mal had stopped to wonder what Jayne was doing still flying with him, especially seeing as he had a complaint to register about every plan Mal made. Come to think of it, this was one of the first jobs Jayne had been on that he'd been cool-tempered about. Enthusiastic, even. He'd thought it meant something, or hoped it had a chance to. And Mal was standing here in his pretty dress, fucking everything up. 

Jayne was so tall in his high heels that Mal could still see him. He'd disappear into the crowd soon enough and leave Mal alone to nurse his own bad judgment. Not to mention that mental image of his own hand up Jayne's skirt, which he hadn't yet been able to shake. Mal took off his shoes and ran full speed in Jayne's direction. The men in his way, perhaps sensing the urgency of romance, stepped out of his way. He almost dashed right by Jayne, who'd gotten in line to buy himself a drink. Pulling together as much charm as he could, he tapped Jayne on the shoulder. When Jayne turned around, Mal pulled him forward into a kiss. It felt rough and lipsticky, but most of all _right_ , in a way he had not expected. 

"After all that?" Jayne said. "Don't you dare fucking start with me." He raised a hand up, and Mal flinched. But when Jayne touched him, he was soft and slow about it, tracing the contours of his face. 

"I ain't starting nothing," Mal said. 

"Then walk away," Jayne said. 

Mal studied him. Most men were cautious of looking Mal in the eye, but Jayne'd never shown him fear. It was one of the things that had inspired Mal to hire him. There was something desirable about bravery. Something beautiful, when it hid behind black mascara and false defiance. "Why you gotta act like this ain't complicated?" Mal said. 

"Why you gotta make stuff out to be complicated when it ain't?" Jayne said. "The way I see it, we got two options. We go back to our tent and we fuck, or I go find someone else and you go back alone and dream about Inara with your hand around your cock. Simple as that." 

"Simple as that?" 

"Uh-huh." 

Mal took a breath, not sure what would come out of his own mouth once he started talking. "I done kissed you in front of all these fine people," was what it turned out to be. "Don't make me regret that." 

"I can't promise nothing," Jayne said, but Mal knew he meant business 'cause he abandoned his place in the beer line and pulled Mal all the way to the tent area, eager as a little boy. 

Mal had barely sealed the door behind them before Jayne was all over him, grabbing at him greedily. It was like Jayne couldn't decide where to put his hands first: Mals ass, Mal's chest, Mal's face. Mal had worried that his body wouldn't respond: that this would seem like a good idea till he realized his desire wasn't sexual. But he could feel the heat of Jayne's newly smooth skin through his stocking as he ran his hand up the inside of Jayne's thigh, pausing at the silk of his garter and the cool metal of his gun. 

His very contraband gun, which Mal lifted from his garter and held by its barrel, pointing it downward. "Didn't I tell you, no guns?" 

"It ain't one of my favorites," Jayne said. "I was gonna give it up if they searched me." He snatched it out of Mal's hand and lay it on his bed. "I just wanted some protection in case you did something stupid." 

"Then you'd best keep it handy," Mal said, "'cause I'm fixing to do something right idiotic." He still had Jayne's skirt gathered up in his hand. He felt Jayne the rest of the way up. Jayne was wearing boxer shorts under his garter belt. There was a sexiness in finding timeworn masculine cotton under all that frippery, and it made Mal want to keep going. He slipped his hand into the fly of Jayne's shorts. Jayne's cock was half hard, and it didn't bite when Mal's fingers brushed it, so Mal swallowed back his anxiety and wrapped his hand around it. Jayne rubbed his cock against Mal's hand and squeezed Mal's ass to pull him closer. "What do you want?" Jayne said into his ear. "You asking me to fuck you?" 

Mal pulled his hand away fast. "No. No. I mean - Is that what - is that what you thought we was gonna do? 'Cause I ain't never--" 

" _Never_?" Jayne said incredulously. "Not even with a girl?" 

It took Mal a moment to work out how one would even _do_ that with a girl. 

"Okay," Jayne said. "Ever had a girl stick a finger in your ass while she went down on you?" 

Mal breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah." 

"It ain't much different," Jayne said. 

Mal glared at him skeptically. 

"Listen," Jayne said, "we ain't gotta--" 

But they did gotta, Mal reckoned. The only thing he had in his way was fear, and that wasn't an emotion he was in the habit of giving in to. "You better use _all_ that lube you grabbed in the stalls," he said. 

"I ain't aiming to hurt you," Jayne said. He held Mal steady at the waist with his skirt hiked up to his hips. Mal braced himself against the wardrobe while Jayne unclipped his stockings and rolled them down his legs. Mal kicked them off and stretched out his toes. He wasn't quite ready for Jayne to relieve him of his undershorts, but he didn't resist. He'd lost his erection somewhere in the anxiety and crossed signals, but he started getting it back as Jayne ran a hand over his ass and then between his legs to tease his balls. Jayne worked his way up farther to stroke Mal's cock. He circled his thumb over the tip with a reverence that reassured Mal: he remembered that Mal was not a girl nor pretending to be. 

Just as Mal was getting to the point where he'd have let Jayne do just about anything to him, Jayne said, "Hang onto your skirts for a minute," and released him. After a cold, deflated moment, Mal decided he'd just as soon take the whole damned dress off. Jayne seemed pleased to find him naked, and he lingered squeezing Mal's nipples and nipping his shoulders before tearing open a packet of lube with his teeth and, so gradually that Mal's cock ached from the slowness, slipped one slick finger into Mal's ass. He gritted his teeth to keep from advertising the loss of his anal virginity to a festival full of men who'd lost theirs long ago. It felt different than he'd expected, so far as he'd had expectations. Alien and crowded, a mite painful as Jayne added fingers, and wetly delicious, like being licked somewhere sensitive and hidden. Sensing his surrender, or more likely by happy accident, that was when Jayne withdrew his fingers, rushed to put on a skin, and worked his cock into Mal's ass. For a moment, Mal saw stars. But when the shock cleared, he couldn't feel nothing but intense, swimming pleasure that tore into his belly. He waited for it to rise or peak, but the sensation thrummed in even waves. He didn't know what to make of it, but it was all he could do to keep from crying out. When Jayne came and the waves subsided, Mal didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment. 

Weak-kneed, Mal turned around. Jayne, who looked a mite panicked, was throwing away the used skin and the empty lube packets. He was a ridiculous sight, still in his dress. The bodice had gone cockeyed and the taffeta had turned inside out on one side like a broken umbrella. Mal wanted to rip him out of that dress, to send the corset hooks and bits of taffeta flying. His cock jumped at the idea. 

Jayne tugged at the top of his dress. "Would you help get this gorram thing off me?" he said, not bothering to look at Mal. Mal went over to Jayne and, resisting the urge to tear, freed him of his dress. It had been corseted in back, and with a look of euphoria, Jayne filled his lungs. No longer asphyxiated, he troubled himself to notice Mal. This time, he didn't ask Mal's opinion. He knelt down and took Mal's cock in his hand. Mal was about to ask what it was Jayne planned on doing, but Jayne answered his question by running his long tongue up the underside of Mal's cock. Mal shuddered and lost his balance. Jayne eased him back to sit on one of the beds. Mal closed his eyes and did something he'd sworn he'd never do: he let Jayne take over. 

He came fast and hard into Jayne's mouth. While Mal was recovering, Jayne sat down on the bed and wiped his face, painting a streak of lipstick on his forearm. Mal reckoned he ought to say something, but he couldn't think what. If Jayne had any ideas, he wasn't sharing them, for once. He was sitting with his hands palms-down on his knees, looking at his feet. The red lipstick streak grabbed Mal's eye again. Mal took his hand and turned it over. He drew a stripe with his finger down the middle of the streak. Jayne snatched his hand back and looked at his arm, then over at Mal. "What'd you do that for?" he said. "Does it got some special meaning I'm s'posed to suss out?" 

"No," Mal said. "I just wanted to." 

"Oh," Jayne said. "Then it _did_ , then." He climbed over into Mal's lap, his chest close to Mal's. He was poised to kiss, but he hesitated. Mal reckoned if Jayne worked at him a little more and scooted his hips forward some, they could fuck and kiss at the same time, if they wanted. He tilted Jayne's head down to kiss him. This could go on all night, and Mal hoped to hell it would. He was going to have this one night and then forget it, so it was best that they made it last as long as possible. 

* 

Mal didn't remember falling asleep. He had pants on, and Jayne was in the other bed, so he'd gone about it proper. But when he sat up, he had a cramp in his neck and a powerful pain running up his pi gu. Also, someone was at the door. Jayne was snoring loud enough to shake the tent pegs and was most likely naked. Mal stretched and yawned and reached over from the end of his bed to swing the door open. 

It was Jayne's queen from the night before. "Good morning," he said. "I wanted to stop by and show there were no hard feelings." He was already all dolled up, his hair piled on top of his head and his artificial curves sheathed in a red satin gown with matching elbow-length gloves. He reminded Mal of Inara and her tendency to show up in the kitchen with perfect makeup and fancy shoes when the boat was on the verge of crashing. There was strength in that ability, and something unmistakably ladylike. Mal wondered if Jayne hadn't been right, if the person standing in front of him was a lady after all. 

Either way, she'd come with coffee, so Mal wasn't fixing to turn her away. He invited her to sit down on the edge of the bed and apologized for the state of the tent. When none of this roused Jayne, he balled up a sock and threw it at Jayne's head. "You got a lady caller," he said. 

"So," Roxanna said, handing Mal a cup of coffee. "Did the two of you have a pleasant evening?" The tone of her voice made very clear the importance of giving the correct reply. 

"We surely did," Mal said. 

"I'm glad," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't say you'd wasted my time." She nodded her head sideways at Jayne. "Or his." 

"We rutted all night," Jayne said, finally stirring. 

" _Jayne_ ," Mal said. "There's a lady present." 

"Why d'you think I'm still in bed?" Jayne said. "I can't find my pants." 

"Then put on your dress," Mal sniped. 

"I would if I had the least idea how," Jayne said. Mal would've belittled him for it, but Jayne's dress for the day was a sari, one long rectangle of fabric, and Jayne couldn't be blamed for harboring some confusion. 

"Are you two going to need some help getting dressed?" Roxanna said. 

Mal said, "Thanks, but we'll be all right on our own," but at the exact same time, Jayne said, "Hell, _yes_ , we're gonna." 

That settled it, apparently, because Roxanna ordered them to get out their dresses and their makeup kits. She laid Mal's out on his bed and cooed, "This is gorgeous work." 

"Friend of a friend did it," Mal said. "Sews mostly for companions." 

"Well, that explains it," Roxanna said. "The details are just - I don't suppose you could give me his name." 

"I could give a name," Mal said, "but I ain't got his contact info with me." 

Roxanna took a business card out of her pocketbook. "Send a wave when you get back to your spaceship," she said. "I may even have a little something extra for you." 

"Ain't gotta pay me to help a friend." 

"Then I reckon I'll have to hire you," Roxanna said. 

"Shen me?" 

"I'm in the weapons business, darling," Roxanna said. "I specialize in rarities and antiques. As you can imagine, I have a hou zi de zao fan of a time finding anyone I can trust to transport my merchandise. I will not lie to you: I was _powerfully_ offended last night. But you have comported yourself like a right gentleman today, and you have made me glad of my policy of never letting a business opportunity walk away." She picked up Mal's dress, shook it out, and unzipped it. "Now," she said, "let's get you prettied up." 

Mal was mostly silent till Roxanna left, wary of saying something ungentlemanly. It wasn't difficult to keep quiet, with his head fuzzy and his ass sore, and Roxanna seemed content to chat with Jayne about firearms. Roxanna's style of makeup and hair design was more flamboyant than Inara's, but the transformation was as terrifying and beautiful as the day before. "You'd best hurry if you hope to get breakfast," Roxanna said before she left. "The ceremony starts in an hour." Jayne told her that they'd catch up with her later in the day, and she kissed both their cheeks before she left them alone. 

"I could use some breakfast," Jayne said. "Roxanna told me them ceremonies go on for hours, and we done missed dinner last night." 

"We ain't going to the ceremony," Mal said. "We got ourselves a job to do." 

"I was wondering when we was gonna get around to that," Jayne said. 

Mal laid out the details. When he finished, Jayne was still powerfully interested in breakfast, and they had almost an hour to kill. They got in line for their free meal, a line populated mostly by men whose makeup failed to hide their hangovers, their exhaustion, or their sexual satisfaction. It didn't look like there was a soul at the whole festival who _hadn't_ gotten himself rutted. Mal noticed that some of the men had their arms draped loosely around each other's waists, marking themselves as couples. The ones who didn't were looking around hungrily, like they were already seeking out an improvement on last night. One or two were working hard to meet Mal's eye. To fend them off, he put his arm around Jayne's waist. "Oh, _now_ you done worked out the signals," Jayne said. He kissed Mal's temple, and when Mal didn't shy away, he rested his own thick arm on Mal's hip. 

They'd barely swallowed down their protein porridge when bells started ringing. A herd of overexcited rams in party dresses thundered toward an enormous white stage hung with pink and red garlands. To the sides of the stage, there were rows of seats, and above the seats, private boxes. But those were for the rich folk: everyone else had to stand in their pointy shoes. Most of the folks in the boxes were already settled, and their outfits were magnificent in their excess. Layers of shiny fabric, wigs piled to the sky, slaves powdering their cheeks and their fake bosoms. A few glanced briefly at the herd below, sneering, before they returned to their preening and fanning. 

Mal's feet were already sore by the time a fellow in an extravagant red wedding gown struck a gong and announced the start of the Aduvani pageant. He looked around, but there were so many men around him that he couldn't see an exit. He was about to start working out a plan B when Jayne doubled over and groaned, "I'm gonna upchuck." He wasn't the most convincing actor, but it was enough to get a path cleared. When they were home free, Mal got out his map, and they ran over to the administrative building, fast as their fancy shoes would let them. Mal's contact had given good instructions, and the stash was right where it was supposed to be, in a meat freezer in the basement below the kitchens. Jayne's sari, loosened slightly, turned out to be a perfect disguise for the package. Mal started to think this job was going to run without a hitch, but a guard, slightly smaller than Jayne and much less elegant in his frock, caught them as they came out of the stairwell. Jayne, who had his hand on his belly to hold up the stash, repeated his performance, and Mal improvised, "My friend ain't felt well all morning. We was looking for the infirmary. Reckon we got ourselves turned around." 

The guard took his hand off his gun. "You surely did," he said. He gave them excruciatingly detailed instructions to the infirmary tent. When Mal thanked him, he was really giving thanks for this being the most dangerous obstacle he'd encountered on this entire job. 

They went back to their tent, and Jayne zipped the drugs up in one of his garment bags. Both of them sank into their beds with a sigh. All that was left to be done was have a good time. Mal reckoned he might actually have one, especially if Jayne was keen on missing some more of the ceremony. Mal went over to Jayne to see if he was interested in a blow job, but Jayne put a hand on his chest. "You're gonna mess it all up," he said. 

"We can put it back together," Mal said. 

"No, we gotta go back to the ceremony," Jayne said. "Roxanna told me last night, they put stuff on your hands, and if you ain't got it, they don't let you into the parties at night." 

"And it would look suspicious besides," Mal said. He got up and headed for the door. 

Jayne grabbed him and turned him around, then shoved him against the tent wall, making the pink canvas shake. He looked like he wanted to attack Mal, but he kissed him gently instead, like he was trying to avoid mussing Mal's lipstick. "After," was all he had to say. The thought of that carried Mal through an hour and a half of songs and dances. The pageant seemed to be dominated by the rich folk from the Core, and most of the everyday folks in the pit were shifting their feet and whispering to each other. There were water bottles being passed around, to make sure no one dehydrated, and more than a few had been spiked with alcohol. As long as they kept their voices low and didn't start a scene, nobody seemed to care whether attention was paid. Some nearby fellows turned out to be ranch hands from Whitefall, and they struck up a conversation when they found out that Mal was familiar with their home moon. They got to talking about cattle and mountains and interplanetary travel, and before Mal knew it, someone on stage was whacking the gong and giving instructions on how to line up for the weddings. When folks wasn't out to find someone to bed down with, they turned out to be right friendly. Not skittish, like they would be out in the 'verse. Folks felt safe at Aduvani. They were among their own. 

The wedding lines moved along pretty fast. Like Jayne had said, when it came Mal's turn, the priest had him repeat a few words in some ancient language, put a garland around his neck, and smeared some fragrant orangey-brown stuff on his hands. The priest gave him another garland, which he put around the neck of a stone idol that stood behind the priest. He watched Jayne go through the same ritual, and then they fairly raced back to their tent and rutted till lunchtime. 

The rest of the day went by quick. Roxanna found them in the lunch line and introduced them to a few of her friends, all of whom were businessmen like herself, and a few of whom seemed right thrilled to meet a cargo ship captain who didn't worry himself with tariffs and trade restrictions. Mal would have preferred to be alone with Jayne, but he didn't want to offend nobody, especially if being gracious meant work in the future. Ever since he'd bought _Serenity_ , he'd been waiting for the day when he found an angle into some steady work. This wasn't the angle he'd expected, but if it panned out, it would do him fine. 

He and Jayne took another break at mid-afternoon, not so much for sex as for dozing off in the heat. They made a brief appearance at the dances, enough to grab some food and beer and to look respectable, and they finished out the festival fucking. Mal reckoned they'd go back to being boys in the morning, and it would be over, so he threw all his energy into it, all his urgency. 

* 

One of the rules that Mal'd picked up in his conversations was that you had to leave Aduvani dressed as a man. Even the queens who passed for women in their daily lives had to put away their frocks for the morning. Mal liked the idea behind it: everyone had to feel off-balance for part of the festival. It was a relief to button up his shirt and pull his suspenders over his shoulders, to spread his toes out in his well-worn boots. 

Jayne, who'd managed to find a t-shirt without a picture of a naked woman on it, looked equally happy to be himself again. He sat in front of the mirror at the vanity, admiring the stubble that was growing back into his face. "Jayne, quit grinning at yourself and help me pick up these skin wrappers," Mal said. "The poor girl that comes in for housekeeping's gonna slip and break her neck." The whole tent was a humiliating mess, not to mention proof that they'd done rather a lot more than slipped up and messed around some. No, this weekend had been totally intentional. 

"Gotta throw away all the evidence?" Jayne said. "Figures." He bent over to gather skins and wrappers from the floor. His thin shirt advertised every contour of his upper body. He was, in his way, still pretty, and the pretty didn't fade when Mal tried to shake it out of his head. 

When Jayne had dropped his handful of detritus into the wastebasket, Mal went over to him. "We still got a couple hours till we're due to meet _Serenity_ ," he said. 

"Oh yeah?" Jayne said. "I ain't been paying attention." 

Mal waited for Jayne to say something: make a decision, rebuff him, anything. But Jayne was no help at all. He smelled ripe from two days without a shower - there were facilities available, but folks used them for fucking more than for hygiene - and he was wearing a grumpy, square-jawed expression. Mal came up close behind him and felt him up. His skin was still smooth under his t-shirt. "Hey," Jayne said, like he felt a mite violated, but after Mal had groped him for a moment, he said "hey" again, this time with appreciation and pleased surprise. 

He bent Jayne over the vanity and undid Jayne's belt. "Did you pack up all the lube?" he said. 

"Put some in my pockets," Jayne said. Mal stuck his hand into one and found a supply that exceeded even Jayne's optimism. It wouldn't be the first time that Jayne's fondness for overkill had paid off. Mal got his cock out and pushed Jayne's pants down to his ankles. He wasn't quite hard enough yet, but he reckoned he'd get there soon enough. He squeezed lube onto his hand and worked his fingers in Jayne's ass, smiling with satisfaction as Jayne groaned softly. Jayne's voice seemed lower and more gravelly than Mal remembered, his chest broader and flatter. But he made the same grunts of pleasure when Mal entered him, and Mal came with the same rough intensity inside him. 

Without a word, Mal went over to the washbasin to clean himself up. When he turned off the tap, Jayne said, "We still on, then? When we get back to _Serenity_?" 

"I ain't making no decisions just yet," Mal said. 

Jayne coughed and put his pants back on. He looked like he expected something from Mal, but Mal couldn't give it if he didn't know what it was. 

"We - we probably oughta say our goodbyes and get ourselves checked out," Mal said. "Reckon the lines at registration are ta ma de feng le." 

* 

When they got back to _Serenity_ , Inara was in the cargo bay waiting. Mal was used to seeing some of the other crew when he returned from a job: Kaylee, River, Book and Wash when they'd been around to. But Inara didn't make a habit of it. He reckoned she really had it in for him if she was that anxious to see his face. He told Jayne to put the cargo in one of the less obvious storage lockers so he could see to Inara. Jayne nodded and took care of it, then went off into the living spaces, just another employee. 

"So," Inara said, failing to sound at all innocent or benign. "How did the job go?" 

"Went well," Mal said. "Got our cargo no problem. Jayne didn't spend our whole paycheck on beer. So long as everything goes as planned on Beau Monde, I'm prepared to call it a success." 

"I'm glad to hear it," Inara said. She was fishing for something, Mal didn't know what. 

"We might even have ourselves another job lined up after," he said. "Made ourselves a few friends." 

"Ralley said he might have something for you, too," Inara said. "He took to you, for some unfathomable reason." 

"Got a few compliments on our outfits. Reckon we might have some work for _him_ , this time next year." 

Inara sighed and folded her arms. "Mal," she said. 

"There something I can _help_ you with?" 

"Mal, do you have _any_ idea how much danger you put yourself in?" 

"Well, it looks like I ain't, from the way you're talking," he said. 

"Mal, the sly syndicate might not be as organized as some of the others, but they're powerful, and they are _ruthless_. If they'd found out you were an impostor, they would have cut your balls off. I'm not joking, Mal! Why do you think I put so much effort into making sure this went smoothly?" 

"Well, that explains it," he said. "I'd been wondering why you took such an interest." 

"This way, at least you have some time before someone figures out you aren't sly and has you killed," Inara said. 

"I don't foresee us having a problem with that, actually," Mal said. 

"And just how do you plan on outrunning _this_ enemy?" 

"We made some friends at that festival. Folks with some influence," he said, but she still looked skeptical. He took a deep breath and ran through the words a few times in his head before he said, "There's also the thing where I had sex with Jayne." 

Inara laughed out loud till she noticed Mal wasn't laughing with her. He could tell that she'd noticed because she looked as if she'd been slapped very hard. "You asshole," she said. She turned on her heels and stormed away. Mal wished that just once, he could be the one to walk away in a snit. Maybe that was why he kept finding himself back at square one with her. 

He stood alone in the cargo bay for a spell, the strap of his bag digging into his shoulder. He'd been beating himself up for two days over the stupidity of falling into bed with Jayne, and it turned out that might have been the thing to save all their lives. It'd put food on the table and fuel in the tank, if their luck held out and Roxanna was honest. 

Jayne sure had taken to that queen. Mal wondered if Jayne had known all along what kind of trouble they'd been in. He sure as hell had some experience with queens. Mal reckoned he'd been the only one in the dark about this job. No wonder he'd had such an easy time getting it. He wished someone'd told him _before_ he'd gone and done it, but then - he would have really fucked things up if he'd had a sense of what he'd gotten himself into. 

He made his way down to his bunk. His back was all kinked, and his pi gu still ached, but the freshly sated feeling drowned all that out. He'd told Jayne they'd have to see where things went, but he got the impression that the first move was his to make. He didn't even go down into his bunk, just opened the hatch and dropped his bag down onto the bed. If Jayne was responsible for getting them through this festival alive, he deserved more credit than Mal had given him. He deserved more than a dirty weekend and a swift demotion back to ship's scapegoat. 

Mal knocked on the door to Jayne's bunk. "It ain't locked," Jayne called up, like he'd been counting the seconds till Mal came around. Like a teenage girl waiting for a wave, and that made Jayne seem awful sweet. 

Mal climbed down into Jayne's bunk. Jayne had taken an eyeliner pencil out of his makeup kit and started drawing on his arm with it. "Is that a bunny rabbit?" Mal said. 

"It's a wolf," Jayne said. "What, it don't look like one?" He rubbed away the wolf-bunny, leaving a dark smear. 

"Gimme that," Mal said, swiping the eyeliner from Jayne. 

"Hey," Jayne protested, but he closed his eyes. Mal drew a thick line in the crease of each of his eyelids. 

"There," Mal said. "Now you're pretty." 

Jayne opened his eyes and pouted at Mal. 

"Reckon you was always pretty," Mal said, "and I just didn't have eyes to see it." 

"I didn't notice you much neither, till you was all queened out," Jayne said. 

"I see you now, though," Mal said. 

"Yeah," Jayne said. He sat back on his hands. "So," he said, like he was fixing to start an argument. "You gonna go back to chasing Inara, now I ain't so pretty?" 

"I was planning on chasing you," Mal said. "Seeing as you don't run away so hard." To prove it, he came over to Jayne and sat across him, his legs around Jayne's waist. 

"Can't run away while you're sitting on me," Jayne said. 

"'Cause I'm sitting on your legs, or 'cause you've had a hard-on since before I sat down?" 

Jayne stared at him for a moment, wounded and beaten, or maybe disappointed at not having to fight for Mal. He didn't understand that he'd already won Mal out from under Inara long before. Or maybe he did, 'cause while Mal was busy trying to read him, Jayne yanked Mal forward by his collar and kissed him with wrathful intensity. He was still a sloppy kisser, but Mal reckoned the enthusiasm counted for something. Jayne seemed to be giving him the same benefit of the doubt in other activities. 

Mal put his hand between Jayne's legs, and Jayne ground up against him. No question that Jayne was getting something out of this. So long as that was true of both of them, Mal didn't see no harm in it. And his body was begging to keep moving forward. 

"This ain't forever or nothing," Jayne said. 

"It's been two _days_ ," Mal said. "It may not even be till tomorrow." 

"Either way, though," Jayne said. "We're still going next year, ain't we? To Aduvani." 

"That's a certainty," Mal said. "One of the few."

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **Camp As a Row of Little Pink Tents**   
Author:   **Mosca**   [website]   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **NC-17**  |  ***slash***  |  **51k**  |  **02/03/06**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Inara, Jayne   
Pairings:  Mal/Jayne   
Summary:  It's the biggest sly festival on the Rim, and Mal and Jayne have some drugs to smuggle.   
Notes:  Thanks to k, Katisha, and Distraction for beta reading. Chinese is from zhongwen.com and the Firefly Chinese Pinyinary. Written for Queenbitter for Serenity Santa 2005.   
  



End file.
